


I Could Have Danced All Night

by venvephe



Series: The Snowglobe Series [1]
Category: Kingsman: The Secret Service (2015)
Genre: Ballroom Dancing, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-11
Updated: 2015-03-11
Packaged: 2018-03-17 09:59:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 820
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3524984
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/venvephe/pseuds/venvephe
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The waltz is, generally, not very high on the list of <i>sexual</i> dances.</p>
<p>Sensual, on the other hand, may be a better descriptor.</p>
<p>Harry realizes that too late.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Could Have Danced All Night

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into Русский available: [Я могу танцевать всю ночь](https://archiveofourown.org/works/5050843) by [Lisenik](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lisenik/pseuds/Lisenik), [venvephe](https://archiveofourown.org/users/venvephe/pseuds/venvephe)



> For UrbanHymnal, who prompted me with, "Harry teaches Eggsy how to dance like a proper gentleman. Who knew a waltz could be so hot?" 
> 
> A quick little one-shot, title shamelessly taken from My Fair Lady. All my love to the Kingsman No Chill Fire Brigade and everyone else that has leapt head-first into the Hartwin trash pile with me. I'll be over here on this curb if you need me, just knock on the bin.

 

"Is this because I’ve seen _My Fair Lady_ but not _Pretty Woman_?” Eggsy asks, eyebrow raised. There’s a note of reluctance in his voice, but he’s still here, albeit shifting from foot to foot - a tell of his nervousness.

"No," Harry says patiently, "It’s because sometime in the future you’re going to be assigned some kind of mission that involves attending a social gathering of a different calibre than you’ve yet experienced."

"A ball," Eggsy translates, and fails at repressing a sigh. "Dancing, though?"

"Dancing a proper waltz is an essential skill for a gentleman to have," Harry replies.

"Bit rich coming from you," Eggsy quirks a grin, "Considerin’ that a gentleman’s skill set, according to you an' the Kingsman, also includes jumping from aeroplanes, narrowly avoiding head wounds, making martinis-"

"Eggsy," Harry chides. But for all his blustering and complaining, Eggsy’s clearly warming to the idea; he nods and Harry moves to the record player in the corner of the ballroom, gently removing his chosen record from its paper slip.

"Next you’ll be showing me which fork and spoon are the proper ones to use at tea." The eye-roll is apparent, even though Harry has his back turned.

He glances over his shoulder at Eggsy, who at least has the decency to look a little abashed - although maybe the growing blush is from the prospect of learning to dance. Really, what was there to be nervous about?

"Come now," he says, putting the record in place and setting the delicate needle in its groove. A sweet, lilting melody fills the air, all strings and sweet, round horn. "It’s not so hard at all once you get the hang of it. I’ll show you - and I’ll lead, first, and do all the hard work."

"How gentlemanly," Eggsy grumbles, but bites his lip and looks up at Harry earnestly when he steps closer. In the afternoon light his eyes are a stunning shade of blue, brighter perhaps in contrast to the rich wood of the parquet floor and polished walnut paneling. Harry swallows. Perhaps there was reason to be nervous.

"Like this," Harry lifts Eggsy’s hand to his shoulder and places his hand on Eggsy’s hip, clasping their free hands together in the air and keeping them at near shoulder-height. _Like this_ , as it turns out, is quite close and personal; Harry can feel the warmth radiating from Eggsy’s body, can see the miniscule freckles across the bridge of his nose. He resists the urge to clear his throat - god, this is rather _My Fair Lady_ , isn’t it?

Harry waits a few bars to get a feel for the music, as it swells and lifts in beats of three, letting the dance of it settle in his chest. And then he steps forward and they’re moving, across the floor in great sweeping turns, around and around. It’s a bit of a shuffle, at first - Eggsy’s not used to moving backwards but he’s quick on his feet, and a fast learner. They don’t speak; each misstep only makes them brush together even closer, and soon those mistakes are fewer and fewer. They’re still undeniably close, breathing each other’s air, warm from the exertion of dancing and the spring breeze from the open window. It’s mesmirizing, hypnotic; undeniably more sensual than Harry had intended.

He should be stopping this, Harry thinks to himself. To - well, at least, to correct Eggsy’s form. But he can’t bring himself to let go, wrapped up as he is in the dance, in Eggsy - the flush on his cheeks and the red of his mouth - so close, right there. Eggsy’s hand on his shoulder is gripping with surprising strength, and they draw closer and closer as they move, almost chest to chest. He can feel the muscles of Eggsy’s hip under his hand, flexing as they move and sway together, long legs brushing when they turn and then turn again.

The frames of their glasses click together and Eggsy chuckles, smiling - are they really that close? - but he doesn’t pull away. In fact, as Harry leads them again in a large figure eight around the ballroom, Eggsy seems almost as preoccupied as he is; Harry catches him glancing at his mouth more than once, and the thought nearly makes him dizzy. Or perhaps it’s the dancing.

"Eggsy," he begins, surprised to hear his own voice so hoarse, and-

"Harry," Eggsy murmurs, before he can get another word in, and Harry almost trips over his own feet when Eggsy stops dancing and leans up to kiss him.

It’s soft at first, sweet, a little clumsy with their glasses between them. They click together almost melodically, overlaid by the quiet strains of waltz buzzing in Harry's ears, a soundtrack to the movements of their mouths. Eggsy slips his tongue into Harry’s mouth, and oh, they do another whole dance just like that.

Neither of them notice when the record stops.

**Author's Note:**

> For more Kingsman and Hartwin-variety writing and art, follow me on [tumblr](http://venvephe.tumblr.com)!


End file.
